


The Fastest Way to a Gob's Heart

by pr_squared



Series: Goblins [2]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Other, POV Nonhuman, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Series: Goblins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971106
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

“Gertie, your mom bought a yoob?” asked Lily, a black-haired, green-eyed goblin and Gertie’s best friend. 

Gertie stood, hand on hips and studied the creature, careful to stand back far enough to avoid a kick from his powerful legs. Gertie had learned that men, both females and males, were large and dangerous creatures. A man might be trained but never tamed, she had been told repeatedly. Male men, boys and yoobs, were notoriously stubborn, lazy, and eager for violence. Her mother had had to go out and buy a yoob! She had ridden female men, girls and mumsies, with some skill. A mumsie could be milked. Males were usually destined for the abattoir. 

Raven-haired Horse stood tied to the slip rail, tacked and saddled. He was larger than any girl or mumsie that Gertie had seen. With his male paraphernalia on blatant display, his gender was clearly apparent. 

“Well, what do you think of him?” Lulu smiled. Her green-skinned hand rested on his muscular buttock in a way that showed both mastery and some degree of affection. He carried her well-healed brand.

The mere size of him was intimidating. Everything looked safe enough, though. Sukie Langley had trained him. She declared him broken but spirited. A man might be trained but she was never tamed. He was bitted and bridled. He was thoroughly restrained by his harness but Gertie felt a quiver of actual fear deep in her belly. He was so large and powerful! She hated that feeling and steeled her nerve. “Can I ride him?” she asked her mom with growing determination. She would master the animal! 

Lulu looked at her daughter. Gertie was so grown up but she had not yet come into her full size yet. She was a skilled rider. The animal was spirited but he was not evil tempered. Lulu thought a long moment and nodded, yes.

Gertie grabbed his bridle. He was too tall to simply step up into the stirrup and pull herself up into his saddle. “Mount!” she barked in her most commanding voice. She hoped and prayed she had not squeaked. 

Horse dropped to one knee promptly as he had been trained. They had drilled him beyond simple obedience. He now obeyed automatically without conscious volition – even before his conscious mind had processed the command. 

Gertie stepped up into his stirrup and swung herself up into his saddle. Lulu helped her shorten the stirrup straps. “Up!”

Horse stood and Gertie towered over the olive-skinned gobs and green-skinned goblins.

Gertie stroked his face to calm him with her six-fingered goblin hand and freed his reins from the railing. She turned him cleanly into the lane. She snapped her spurs into his flanks and brought him to an easy trot. Wielding her crop and spurs, she ran him up the street at a trot and back at an all-out run. When she returned, he was thoroughly exhausted. Dirt adhered to his sweat-covered body. Gertie delighted in her mastery. 

Horse hung spread-eagle on the grooming stand. His nose ring was secured to the upright, his ankles to the stays in the floor, and his wrists to the crosspiece. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of Gertie’s small green hands on his body. He was beyond tired and would rather be clean than dirty. 

Horse heard a noise and opened his eyes. Nanz mounted her brunette Lady on the stand beside him. The sleek girl had tiny titties compared to the mumsies in milk. Once Lady was secured, Nanz attended to her grooming. She took great pleasure in her girl. 

Lady turned her head toward the yoob and smiled around her bit. She was a proud girl. No girl or mumsie in Osgyth was faster than she. Among the men in Osgyth, only Horse and Boy were faster than she and not by much. She doubted that any faster man might be found in any town in the Goblin Federation, Aldborough, Bromley, Chislewich, Osgyth, Stowe, Twynham, Uttlesford, Uxbridge, or Wyyme, the capital. She sighed. 

Horse heard her belly rumble. She farted, then expelled a turd. The smell was unmistakable.

Horse smiled. He strained and matched her. He promptly expelled a turd of his own.  



	2. Chapter 2

Gertie Gardner was proud that her parents Lulu and Hobson let her ride their raven-haired Horse. He was the fastest man in Osgyth. He was faster than Pippa Fairbairn’s ginger-haired Juggz. He was faster than Nanz Comford’s brunette Lady. He was even faster than Sukie Langley’s golden-haired Boy. 

Astride his broad back, she enjoyed the admiring stares of the gobs and goblins going about their business on the High Street of Osgyth. His mere presence unsettled the girls and mumsies tied to the railings on either side of the street but he was no threat. She had the powerful animal totally under her control. He had learned to respect her crop and spurs. He had learned to respect her hands on his reins. She held him to an easy trot. She sensed his impatience but resisted to the impulse to bring him to a run and show off his speed. 

Up ahead, she saw Lem Langley, Sukie’s little brother, up on golden-haired Boy. Sukie’s little brother wasn’t quite so little anymore. He had grown up into quite a handsome olive-skinned gob. Gertie saw something special in his smile and the way he held his raven -haired head. His gold nose ring gleamed. Gertie called out and waved. Lem did not see her. He was talking with red-haired Malva Merrill – Malva Merrill! Malva looked up at him with the dumbest expression on her already stupid face. Gertie groaned. 

Gertie knew she didn’t like Malva and she knew that the Boy and Horse didn’t like each other. A man might be trained but never was truly tamed, her parents cautioned her. Yoobs, male men, were worse than the girls and mumsies. Yoobs were notoriously stubborn, lazy, and eager for violence. They were jealous and quick to take insult. Most yoobs were gelded and fattened for slaughter. The Crookedfingers kept an intact yoob or two for the season to cover the mumsies and keep them in milk. Sukie Langley was the first gob or goblin to have trained one as a mount. She had broken and trained Horse also and sold him to Gertie’s mom, Lulu. Gertie sensed Horses’ anxiety and kept Horse well away. She wondered whether would Lem ever see Malva for what she really was. Malva cared only for clothes and gobs. Gertie would be a raider like her parents. Her larder would always be full. 

Well, her mother had raced Boy and Horse had left Boy in her dust. Gertie snapped her spurs into Horse’s flanks. He burst forward at a run; he was always eager to show off and his speed was exhilarating. She fought the urge and did not look back to see if Lem had seen her. She needed to speak with her friends, Celandine and Lily. 

Horse hung spread-eagle on the grooming stand. His nose ring was secured to the upright. His ankles were secured at shoulders’ width to stays set in the floor. He was freed of his harness and his wrists fastened to the cross piece. If she could ride the beast, she could attend to his grooming, her father Hobson insisted. Gertie took her responsibilities seriously. Gertie attended to his grooming and chatted with her friends, Celandine Thwaite and Lily Salter. A coarse brush in each hand, she scrubbed his legs and buttocks. She traced his well-healed brand with her finger. She inspected his tanned skin for the leavings of her whip and spurs. She basked in her friends’ respect as she groomed the powerful man with a casual familiarity. 

With Horse secured on the grooming stand, he was no longer so frightening. “Who’s the cutest gob in Osgyth?” Celandine asked. A mischievous grin lit up her hook-nose green-skinned goblin face beneath her gleaming black eyes. She thought her nose was her best feature. 

Gertie grinned and said nothing. She reached between Horse’s muscular thighs and squeezed his male paraphernalia in her soapy long-fingered, green-skinned hand. He shuddered but was held helpless by the sturdy grooming stand. Men’s over-sized genitalia were a constant source of humor among the goblins. She thought about Lem again, Sukie’s little brother, but said nothing. Lem wasn’t so little anymore and he was more than a little hot.

“What about Ilberic Riordan?” Lily offered tentatively, thinking of the olive-skinned red-haired gob.

“Otho Mipset,” Celandine sighed and looked at her friends for their reaction. She looked surprised that they did not immediately acknowledge the obvious. “He asked me to the Fall Man Roast,” she offered or rather boasted. 

Gertie scrubbed Horse’s belly and chest with renewed vigor. Lem liked that damned Malva Merrill. Did he even know that Gertie was sweet on him? She stepped up on an upside-down bucket and washed down her man’s broad back, shoulders and hair energetically. She combed his raven hair and tied it in his pony tail. Did he even know that she was alive? She moaned aloud and her friends stopped talking and just stared at her. 

Horse had learned to accept his new life. He was well fed and well sheltered. The pain of his branding faded though the memory like the mark did not. The goblins readily applied painful “corrections” for any misbehaviors but he was never beaten capriciously or excessively. Too mild a correction, they said, was too soon forgotten and need too soon be repeated. He had come to accept his bit and bridle. He had learned to wait, tied at the railing while Lulu, her husband Hobson, or Gertie went about their business. He scoffed to remember that once he had thought his obedience was voluntary - part of a clever strategy of deception. They had trained him and trained him until his body obeyed any command before his conscious mind had even processed it.

He made little of the goblin’s guttural speech beyond the simple commands required. He had become adept at sensing tone though. Was he in trouble? Had he won approval? With Lulu, Hobson, and even little Gertie, he relished their approval and feared their disappointment even more than he feared their whips.

He found happiness where he could. He was well fed. He preferred being clean rather than filthy. He had come to accept the grooming stand and the olive-skinned gobs and green-skinned goblins’ hands on his tired body. He enjoyed carrying a rider. Moving as one with a skilled rider in his saddle, seemed just right. Running under the open sky was as close as he came to freedom. 

He and golden-hair Boy were the only two male men who had been trained as mounts. His mere presence unsettled the girls and mumsies tied to the railings on either side of the street. He savored their distress. 

Most of all, he savored his victory over Boy. He was now the fastest man in Osgyth. He was faster than old ginger-haired Juggz or caramel-haired Titz or brown-haired Assz. He was faster than brown-haired Lady on a short course and he was even faster than Boy. He remembered that victory when he encountered Boy in the village. He knew that golden-haired Boy remembered it too. All in Osgyth and likely all in the entire Goblin Confederation knew that Horse was the fastest man under saddle.  



	3. Chapter 3

A day passed. Gertie took Horse for a ride. She knew she looked good on his broad back and hoped that she might see Lem Langley again. 

Lem was easy to see on his tall golden-haired mount, Boy. Gertie gave Horse a kick and guided him toward Lem and Boy. “Lem!” she called out and waved.

Lem looked at her curiously, then shared a wry smile. Horse’s nearness made Boy anxious and Lem calmed his mount. Annoyed, he stroked Boy’s neck.

“Hi Lem! You look good up on Boy!”

“Not so bad yourself.” Her Horse was a magnificent animal. His hair was raven black. Still, it was hard to believe that he had beaten Boy. Boy had long been the fastest mount in Osgyth. Lem entertained the notion that Boy would have certainly won, had he and not his stupid sister Sukie been in the saddle. Sukie was a trainer. She spent so much time with the damned men that she forgot they were animals and treated them almost like goblins. He was not the victim of such mawkish sentimentality. 

“You know Lem, I was thinking.”

That’s good, Lem smiled but wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Gertie was cute when she was thinking. Malva was likely hotter but Gertie was hot in her own way.

Gertie had a notion. “My mom beat your sister but I think we owe you a rematch.” The fastest way to a gob’s heart….

“Yes, a rematch” Lem nodded and grinned. “You on your raven-haired Horse and me on my golden-haired Boy?” He would like that very much. Sukie could not defeat Horse but he certainly could. Perhaps Malva would witness his hard-won victory and he savored her imagined adoration. He had sudden misgivings. Malva cared so little for riding. She was hot but she cared only for her clothes. Would she understand the importance of his triumph? Now little Gertie could ride as well as any gob and she was as cute as any goblin. Little green-skinned Gertie was not so little any more.

“Yes! Tomorrow at noon, High Street.” Gertie offered, serious now. She loved just looking at handsome olive-skinned Lem and talking with him.   
  
Hose’s dejection showed in his gait. It was more than just exhaustion. He was certain that all watched him with derision. Horse saw Boy gloating, even when he closed his eyes. As of today, Horse was no longer the fastest mount in Osgyth. He really could have won but somehow he hadn’t. Boy had beaten him. He had been ahead for the entire race -except at the end. Boy closed from his left shoulder and he had held him off, stride after stride after stride. Lem went to his crop and Boy surged forward. Horse redoubled his pace, not waiting for Gertie’s spurs or crop. The finish line neared. He really had tried and he still lost. Unexpectedly, Gertie had pulled back sharply on his reins. Horse stumbled and Boy rushed past him. Why had she done that? Horse let Gertie lead him back to the stable and secure him to the grooming stand. 

Gertie removed Horse’s tack and set about his grooming. She could tell that something was wrong with her prize raven-haired mount. Well, he didn’t like to lose and neither did she, in general. She ran her long green finger over his spine, from the base of his neck to his tailbone. His tanned skin was wet with perspiration. He had really tried. She spoke to him in soothing tones and slapped his brawny buttock in her long-fingered green hand. He pulled against his restraints and she smiled. “Don’t like to lose, do you sweetie? Tell you what, neither do I. Tell you what, though, we actually won today.” She couldn’t really brag to her friends Lily and Celandine. Lily had Ilberic and Celandine had Otho. She could say exactly what she wanted to Horse and he didn’t understand a word of it. He wouldn’t repeat a word of it to anyone else. The thought made her smile. “We won today. Lem asked me to the Fall Man Roast – not stupid Malva!” The fastest way to a gob’s heart was through his ego.


	4. Chapter 4

The gobs and goblins of Osyth and surrounding hamlets and homesteads, perhaps 1500 households in all, gathered for the Fall Festivities. Soon, winter would descend upon the mountains and make travel perilous. Friends and families in the outlying homesteads and hamlets might not see each other for months. Animals who could not be feed over the difficult winter months would be slaughtered. It was a time of plenty, though all knew that days of scarcity lay ahead. 

All cheered at the races. The first race was for novice riders. The second race was limited to mounts who had never raced before. Once again, Nanz Sandhill won the main event on her sleek, brown-haired Lady. Only girls and mumsies might be entered. Gertie imagined circling the track on her Horse. Lem’s sister Sukie had petitioned the stewards to let Boy run but her request had been denied – once again this year. She said, though, she thought that she had made some progress.

Aromatic bratwuursts roasted on the grill. Two large men turned on spits over the smoldering fires. Their headless carcasses had been gutted and skinned. Each was folded into a compact shape for even roasting. The fatty mammillae had been trimmed from the mumsie. The tendons at the knees had been cut to allow the lower legs to bend back on meaty thighs. The inverted knees were drawn up and secured under the armpits with the feet resting on the choice buttocks. The arms were drawn around the outside and a sturdy skewer pierced the hands and feet to anchor in the tailbone. 

Bobbers turned one spit and Lanzo the other. Bandobras Took wielded a razor-sharp blade and shaved slices of seared meat from the turning carcasses. Gobs and goblins lined up. Bandobras skillfully loaded their flatbreads with heaps of thinly sliced meat and the goblins added onions, spices, and fruit chutney to their taste. 

The meaty hindquarters of several men boiled in a huge cauldron – rumps, thighs, and lower legs. Lafe wielded his hook and laid a steaming joint on a wooden table. A knife in one hand and axe in the other, he broke down the quarter into fist size chunks of meat, rump to the left, thigh in the middle, and calf to the right. Long boiling assured tenderness, though the calf still tended to toughness.

Gertie looked at Lem mischievously. “A piece of ass?”

Lem smiled eagerly. “I love rump, not ashamed to say it.” No one could match the ravenous appetite of a growing adolescent gob. 

Lem was really cute and his nose ring always gleamed. His coal black eyes seemed to smolder. Gertie thought and speared a chunk of butt for herself. Butt or thigh were fine but calf tended to be tough and cuts of calf collected uneaten on the table. Ground calf could be found in the famous goblin sausages. Little went to waste. Gertie hoped that all would see that Lem was with her and not with that skank Malva. 

The gob and goblins seared their chunks of boiled man flesh over a roaring fire. Gertie stood close to Lem and watched the fire lick at her meat. She enjoyed Lem’s nearness. Lily was with her Ilberic and Celandine was with her Otho but she was with her Lem.

The smoke irritated Gertie’s eyes. She blinked and looked away. She wondered if she might see Malva Merrill – and even more, might Malva have seen her with Lem? Time for dancing later. 

A noisy crowd gathered. Eagerly, Lem led and Gertie followed as they pushed their way through the thong. Boy-baiting! Boy-baiting was her least favorite part of the festival. A man was collared and tethered to a sturdy pole by a length of chain. Pairs of dogs were set upon him. The man flailed his arms and kicked his legs to ward them off. At first, his fists made contact and the dogs whined and slinked away. The crowd laughed and cheered. Over time, the man tired. One dog closed his jaws around the man’s fist while the second tore at his male paraphernalia. The beast fell to the ground. Two fresh dogs were released. One ripped out his throat and finished him. The crowd roared, Lem among them.   
Gertie looked away. Lem’s enthusiasm had thoroughly embarrassed her. Hunting men was one thing but this was something else. Lem was an excellent dancer, though, and that made up for much.


	5. Chapter 5

Gertie tied Horse at the rail and knocked on the door of Celandine’s house. Celandine’s mother, Primula Twofoot, told her that Celandine was attending to her chores in the barn. Gertie found her friend in the barn tending to her mumsie Beauty.

Beauty fidgeted uncomfortably. She stood bent at the waist and secured to the grooming stand. Her nose ring was clipped to the upright and her wrists outspread to the cross piece. Her ankles were secured to stays set solidly in the floor. Her full breasts hung heavily from her chest.

Celandine spoke to her mumsie in soothing tones, hoping to calm the anxious animal. Her long-fingered green hands gently squeezed the mumsie’s full breasts, her fingers teased the mumsie’s nipples. Beauty shuddered and sighed aloud. A thick stream of rich milk squirted into the waiting pail. Celandine’s long-fingered hands pumped Beauty’s breasts rhythmically and milk spurted into the pail.

“Hey, Celandine!” Gertie watched amused as Celandine went about her task so intently. Gertie waited until the milk was flowing before greeting her friend. She did not want to spook either the animal or her friend.  
Celandine looked up but her experienced hands kept working and the milk kept flowing.

“Lem and just I loved the Festival. We had a really great time.” She never tired of reminding her friends that Lem had taken her to the festival. “You know, he once visited Wendon Lofts. He told me that the men there have animals there called cows that give milk just like mumsies.” She liked to let her friends know that Lem had taken her into his confidence. He had taken her to the Fall Festival and she wanted everyone to remember.

“And the two-legged stupid men ride four-legged larger, dumber animals called horses and the four-legged horses ride even larger and dumber eight-legged animals – called? Before I’d believe it, I’d really like to see it myself.” Celandine had heard it all before. She shook her thick black hair. Her usually intent ebony eyes softened as she considered what had been said. “No mumsie gives milk like my Beauty.” She kept her voice calm so as not to spook her animal. She was truly fond of her mumsie. 

Beauty shuddered and sighed. She found comfort in Celandine’s praise and deft hands. The bucket was half-filled already.

“There, there girl.” Celandine comforted her, stroking her back with her long-fingered green goblin hand. Beauty’s milk made the best cheese and her Otho was without doubt the cutest olive-skinned gob in Osgyth. Her Otho was so sweet. She savored the feel of his lips on hers and the press of his olive muscular chest against her soft green breasts. Lem was just a sorry puffed-up man’s ass. Gertie just didn’t see it. Sadly, she would learn.


	6. Chapter 6

The bitter winter cold had yet to seize the mountains in its unrelenting grip. Hobson, Gertie’s father, need make one more trip to Uxbridge before the snows closed the roads.

Horse was glad to escape the close confines of his stall despite the chill. They had coated him in a thick coat of man-fat against the cold. He ran and his strong legs devoured the distance. 

Horse felt gob eyes upon him as he trotted past. He wondered if they chuckled at his defeat by Boy. He searched for Boy, despite his blinders. Once he had been acknowledged by all as the fastest man under saddle in Osgyth but no longer; now he was just lucky to escape the stew pot and be kept alive through the winter. His owners, though, seemed genuinely fond of him. They would keep him over the winter. They were not about to sell him. His pace lagged as his mind wandered and pondered these troubling uncertainties. 

He felt Hobson’s sharp spurs and retuned to speed. The olive-skinned gob was a skilled rider and tolerated no nonsense.

Horse’s exertions kept him warm. His roiling mind slowly emptied itself as he left the staring eyes of Osyth behind and followed the road to Uxbridge. He found a measure of peace as he lost himself in the rhythm of his stride. Carrying a skilled rider under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom.

A waystation marked the halfway point on the road to Uxbridge. Horse was led to a stall in the stable attached to the station. Hobson tied him to the rail. Slapped his muscular butt fondly, and closed the half-door behind him. “Be back in a bit,” he said, smiling at his mawkish silliness – as if the animal would understand him.

Horse knew that this was time for rest. Sheltered from the wind and sharing a wall with the inn, his stall was warmer than the outside. He could lower his head and drink from a trough or nibble from a bag of man feed. At home, he was kept in a stall far from any girls or mumsies. Here, he found a black-haired mumsie in the stall next to his. He looked over the wall and smiled what he hoped was a friendly smile around his bit. He made a noise. The shank of the bit pushed down his tongue and prevented intelligible speech.

The mumsie jumped. She looked surprised and frightened. One didn’t see many male men under saddle. She pulled away as far as her tether allowed and turned her back to him. She had a lovely female ass. Horse wondered if even she knew that Boy had defeated him.


	7. Chapter 7

Lilly saw Gertie in the doorway and nodded. She knew something Gertie would want to know though she really didn’t want to be the one to tell her. She thought about the fun she had had with Ilberic the night before – not something she wished to share with her parents in any detail. 

Chores first – socializing later. Lilly brought the brawny yoob to his knees. He had learned to respect her goad. Kneeling, he was still taller than the diminutive goblin standing behind him at her full height. He looked nervously around then saw Gertie standing at the open door. Lilly slipped the razor-sharp blade from its leather sheath unseen. 

The yoob stared at Gertie. He seemed not even to feel the deep cut that opened the great vessels of his neck. He felt the thick warm blood cascading down his chest, He looked down, surprised to see the deep red torrent, and inhaled the sweet metallic smell. 

Lilly sheathed her knife and pushed him over with her foot. The large man collapsed in the straw, twitching. Blood pooled in the straw. Lilly stepped back and sighed. “Last one of the season! You wanted to talk? Some of us must work.” Lilly retrieved hook and jammed the point between his right heel and Achilles tendon. Though he carried six times her weight, a clever gear set-up enabled her to lift him until his head was just clear of the floor. 

Gertie studied the beast. He hung head down with his legs widely splayed. The dirty pink of his hairy skin contrasted with hairless gob olive and goblin green. Once Cotman Cotton had once taken a black-skinned man – a different breed, perhaps. However, his flesh had tasted no different and his skin, once tanned, had sold for a premium but honestly looked no different.

Lilly tied off the cock. His ball sac had long been emptied of its contents. She retrieved a narrow-bladed knife. The yoob shuddered when she made her first deep incision. Embarrassed, Lilly looked up at Gertie. She grinned then returned to her task. She cut a deep circle around his rectum, then pulled up his bung and tied it off. 

“Did you see me with Lem at the Dance?” Gertie boasted more than inquired as Lilly worked.

With practiced skill, Lilly cut a circle around his floppy pink man-pizzle. Man-pizzle was her dog’s favorite treat. Her Ilberic’s hard olive gob cock was neither pink nor floppy. Ilberic wanted her so badly - almost as badly as she wanted him. She loved the look in his eyes when he came and he was certainly messy enough. 

She opened the man’s belly and sawed through the cartilage next to his breastbone, opening his chest. She reached in and tied off his windpipe and food tube and made a cut below her tie. She cut around his diaphragm then took a step back and a deep breath. She pushed his bung through the opening in his pelvis and gutted him cleanly. He was most certainly not her first. “You know, Gertie, I saw Lem with Malva Merrill.”

“With?” Gertie gasped, struggling to organize her thoughts into a coherent sentence. “What exactly does ‘with’ mean?”

“Hi, Lem! How’re you doing?” Malva asked shyly. “Did you enjoy the Dance?” She looked up at him and squared her shoulders. “Ferdy and I had so much fun.” Not as much fun as I would have had with you, she thought but kept to herself.

Ferdy Chubb! Lem thought, Ferdibrand Chubb? Malva is so hot! “Ferdy?” he blurted out finally. “Really?”

She lifted her left hand and brushed her hair, then smoothed the fabric over her right shoulder. Her long fingered green goblin hand drew his attention to her soft, round goblin breast. Her green goblin lips were full and inviting. Malva was so hot and she knew it. She moved a half step forward and leaned toward him. He read the signal and embraced her in a hug. Her round, soft breasts pressed again his chest. The scent of her perfume filled his head. Gertie was always riding her man and she usually smelled like him too. 

“Ferdy is such a good dancer!” Malva gushed but he can’t kiss like you, she thought. No gob aroused her like Lem. She glanced down briefly, seeking proof of his arousal. Well, they had danced close other times and she had savored the feel of his rampant olive gob-cock. Once, she had brushed him with her hand and he almost tumbled from his feet! She raised her head, offering him her luscious green lips. 

Lem kissed her!

Gertie looked at Lilly. “Man-shit! I thought you were my friend. You’re just lying!”

Lilly raised her eyebrows. “I am your friend. You can believe what you will.” Her coal-dark obsidian eyes showed sadness and not anger. “But true is true.” She reached into the carcass and deftly dissected the tenderloins.


	8. Chapter 8

Horse was sleeping in his stall, dreaming lazily about that round-bottomed mumsie from the way-station. A solid kick from a booted foot roused him from his slumbers.

“Up! Up!” Gertie barked and stood, her long-fingered green hands on her hips. At once, she hated herself for repeating the command and that only added to her general sense of ill being. She had brooded about lying Lem and malicious Malva or was it lascivious Lem and malodorous yellow-eyed Malva - though a sleepless night. Horse stirred and she poked him sharply with her crop.

Horse shook the sleep form his eyes. He rose awkwardly to his knees; his wrists restrained by his harness; his ankles were hobbled. He was always happy to see Gertie but something was clearly wrong. The day was new but had he already offended her somehow? 

Gertie dropped the bridle over his head. He opened his mouth to accept his bit. He searched her face for any sort of hint. She glared back at him and quickly adjusted the straps, pulling the bit uncomfortably deep into his mouth. She dropped the saddle over his shoulders and fastened the cinch. Impatiently, she urged him to his feet and he stood. Gertie secured the shoulder and tail straps to the cinch. She jerked the cinch extra tight.

Usually, Gertie guided him into the yard with a firm hand on his bridle and he stumbled after her to the extent permitted by his hobble. Today, she reached up and seized hold of his nose ring with that casual confidence that comes from managing powerful and dangerous animals daily. She dragged him forward. 

“Kneel!”

Horse dropped promptly to his knees but not before Gertie lashed him once across his belly. This was not like her at all.

Gertie removed his hobble. “Mount!”

Horse raised his brawny left thigh and Gertie boosted herself into his saddle. She gathered up the reins and planted her feet in the stirrups. She felt uncharacteristically stiff. Horse could feel her agitation.

Her spurs snapped into his flanks and he set into motion. She jabbed him again and he quickened his pace. His mind cleared as his long strides devoured the road. Bearing a skilled rider under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom.

Gertie rode him to the field where the goblins had placed a series of 12 posts in a line about thirty feet apart. She guided him neatly back and forth between the posts, and then once again at a faster pace. 

“Faster,” she said, her tension dissipating. Horse felt Gertie’s green goblin hand on his cheek and he felt her fondness in her touch. Once again, she guided him back and forth between the posts. Skillfully, she shifted his weight with his stride and they ran as one. 

They finished the third run and Gertie allowed herself a small smile. She turned him back for a fourth run after a short pause. She snapped her spurs into his sides and he surged forward. One hand on his reins and one hand wielding her crop, they blasted through the 100-yard course.

Horse was breathless when Gertie finally brought him to a halt. His large body dripped perspiration. Gertie inhaled the sour odor of man-sweat. She was exhilarated. “You won’t let me down, will you sweetie?” she said.  
Horse did not understand her words but he sensed the change in her tone. He treasured her approval.

“Hi, Gertie,” Lem smiled. His golden nose ring gleamed. Gertie is not quite as hot as Malva but she’s attractive in her own way. He wrinkled his long olive gob nose. She does reek of man-sweat.

“Hi, Lem. How’s lovely Malva?” Gertie asked, feigning politeness. 

“Malva’s great!” Lem answered cheerfully, then saw the anger in Gertie’s red goblin eyes. None of her business.

Gertie challenged him to a race.

“You really want to race again?” Lem asked skeptically. “Old Stew Meat hasn’t a chance against my Boy.” Still Horse was an impressive mount. Lem saw the fading crop marks on his large body and shook his head. Had Gertie been taking her anger out on her animal?

The exact meaning of their words escaped Horse but he sensed the hostile sparring in their tone. He was pleased to learn that he was not the object of Gertie’s anger.

“Anyway, what’s the prize. What’s in it for me?” He imagined her on her knees, looking up at him shyly. The fires would be banked in her sizzling red goblin eyes. Her luscious green goblin lips would close around his rampant olive gob cock. He sighed aloud.

“What are you thinking about?” Gertie asked, her red eyes flaming. Lem appeared quite pleased with himself, as always. 

Lem grinned wildly, imagining his triumph but said nothing. Gertie’s anger flared visibly and that would make her ultimate surrender even more delicious. Malva had such soft yellow eyes, rare among goblins. What if he brought their friends to witness Gertie’s humiliation? 

Horse hung, restrained securely on the grooming stand. His skin was sticky with sweat and filthy. He had won and he looked forward to being clean once more. Gertie had brought him to the stand, secured him, and then just left. Horse closed his eyes and relaxed. Feeling the need, he expelled a large man-turd that lay steaming in the straw.

It had come to this. Lem entered the stable reluctantly. Gertie stood glaring, hands on hips. He saw no hint of mercy. Her sweaty animal hung on the grooming stand. He looked to be safely restrained. A man-turd lay steaming on the straw covered floor. Lem looked around, thoroughly embarrassed. “Hi, Lilly – hi, Ilberic – hi, Celandine – hi, Otho.” Others would witness his abject humiliation! 

“Hi, Lem!” 

Lem wasn’t even certain who had greeted him. He was pre-occupied by his promise. 

“Okay, Lem. I won and you must kiss my Horse’s stinking pink man’s ass.” 

Lem just stared at Gertie.

“I want to see some tongue.” Gertie’s day had taken a turn for the better.

“Eww…” It may have been Celandine or Lilly. Or was it Malva – Malva was here too!

“He kissed me with those lips!” Malva gasped. “He may want to kiss me with those lips again!”  


**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to write a pony tale where the pony was not the star.


End file.
